


Missing Pieces

by foxysquid



Series: Bottom Erwin Week [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Death Averted, Amputation, Anal Sex, Bottom Erwin Smith, Canonical Character Death, Intercrural Sex, Loyalty, M/M, Military, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Romance, Serious Injuries, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1582325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxysquid/pseuds/foxysquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Titans appear within Wall Rose, Mike is badly injured, with no memory of the events that left him in such a state.  But the important thing is, he's alive--and he has to return to Erwin's side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [specterlands](http://specterlands.tumblr.com) for the inspiration, as the idea for this story came from a conversation we had.

He was aware of an excruciating pain lancing through the left side of his head, like no other pain he'd felt before. He was aware of a sharpness against his skin, not like a knife, but a soft, yielding sharpness, pricking his palms and his limbs through his clothes. What could it--ah, yes. He remembered what he had to do. He had to breathe in, so he did, inhaling deeply through his nose. The first scent that hit him was ugly, alarming, sulfurous and rotting, but faint. Titans? Was he outside the wall? If he was outside the wall, he would die.

Mike was aware of the fact that he was lying on his back. Directly. He wasn't wearing his gear. He remained very still as he breathed in again. Pretending to be a corpse, wasn't a reliable means of survival, especially as it could only be temporary, but it was something. He scented the air. Titans. Blood. Sweat. Fear. Grass. That was it. The sharpness touching him was coarse blades of grass. He understood that. The blood, sweat, and fear must have been his own. He didn't smell anyone else. Where was his squad, his horse? The Titan smell was strong, as always, but distant. There wasn't one nearby, unless the wind was misleading him, carrying the scent away, but Titan scent was harder to carry than most, and it wasn't windy.

That wasn't all his nose told him. Outside the wall, the air had a certain freshness, a wildness, that couldn't be replicated. Out there, there were no trace scents of human habitation, only what the Survey Corps brought with them. He didn't smell that freshness here. So--he was inside the walls, and--Titans? Had they broken through again? No, that was the worst thing that could happen. But maybe it wasn't that. Maybe there were more Shifters. Maybe it was another of Hange's experiments. He could hope.

What had happened?

He tried to remember, but to his alarm, he couldn't recall any of the events that had led up to this current moment, in which he was bleeding and lying in the grass. The last thing that he remembered was guarding the cadets. They were being held on suspicion of being accomplices to the Female Titan. Had one of them been a Shifter? He knew that Shifters weren't something you could smell. Eren had smelled human.

At last, Mike opened his eyes. Or he tried. One eyelid slowly rose, but the other was too damaged, and all he felt on that side of his face was pain when his facial muscles shifted. He closed his eye, quickly, but he'd glimpsed his surroundings in that moment. There was no need to keep it open. He was lying on a grassy patch by a dry stream bed. The old stream had worn though the earth a long time ago, creating a depression in which he was lying. It must have protected him from sight. He wasn't safe here, but it was cover. He couldn't stay, but he could travel along the stream bed, which was deep enough that he could remain unseen from a distance if he went along on his hands and knees.

Yes, he had to go. He had to report. He had to go back to Erwin. Erwin needed him. Whatever had happened, Erwin needed to know about the Titans. Mike could tell him. He struggled to sit up, but if trying to open his eyes had been painful, this was agonizing. All his limbs protested, and he almost passed out. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, though he was lying on the ground. It felt like the world was spinning around him. He couldn't move, then. He was badly injured, and his position was unknown, as was the status of the enemy. He was bleeding, but he lacked the ability to ascertain what his injuries were, or to treat them in any way.

This wasn't a situation that could easily be survived. Mike opened his eye again. He could see the sun and the blue sky. The sun was pale, but too bright to look at, and the sky was ribboned with narrow white clouds across its soft blue face. There was a breeze, but it was soft. The long grasses overlooking the stream bed swayed. They were a very light green, edged with darker brown. He couldn't keep his eye open, because his head was starting to ache, so he closed it, but that was enough. He was still in the world. He wouldn't give up. He couldn't do much, but he could keep living, keep breathing, keep his heart beating. No matter what had happened, or how bad the situation was, he didn't want to die. He had a job to do.

Erwin would be waiting for him. He had to get back to him. He pictured Erwin's face, the faint smile he'd worn when they'd parted, the calm expression on his face when he'd told him he'd see him soon. Whenever they said that, they knew it could be a lie.

This time... it would be true again.

That was the last thing he thought of before his mind drifted away and he lost consciousness.

***

"Squad Leader! You're awake."

Mike didn't feel awake, but he heard the voice. His left eye still hurt too much, so his right eye fluttered open, and his gaze shifted toward the sound. He found himself regarding an unfamiliar face, that of a young woman who was smiling at him. She was narrow and blonde, and her smile was strained. She looked tired. "I thought I saw your eye move," she said. From her clothing, he guessed that she was medical personnel. "Can you talk?" she asked.

He didn't know, so he tried. He opened his mouth, and his lips moved. "Yeah," he said, managing to croak out the syllable.

"Wonderful, that's wonderful. We were so surprised to find you. It's a good thing the clean up crews brought their dogs along. One of them sniffed you out."

"Clean up?"

She frowned. "There was an incident, but it's fine now. Everything's fine."

He sniffed the air, but he didn't need to do that to tell that she was being gentle with a patient, not wanting to upset him too much. "My squad?" he asked.

She was being kind, but he was a high-ranking officer, and she didn't deny him the information he asked for. "I'm afraid they couldn't be found."

Mike closed his eye. After a few moments, he felt a soft cloth against his face, and that was how he realized he was crying. "There were some trainees we were looking after."

"I believe they're fine," said the medic, "but the reports we receive are limited. This is a small base, low security."

So they'd done their duty, or it seemed they'd managed to protect their charges. Good. They would have liked that. He saw all their faces in his mind. He missed them already. It wasn't unprecedented to lose an entire squad, but it was a grave loss. As their leader, he felt he'd failed them. He should have been the one to die.

"And the commander?" he asked, opening his eye again. The situation must have been bad, but it couldn't have been catastrophic, or they wouldn't be here, at this low security military outpost. He felt relatively secure in asking about the commander, but he worried about him nonetheless. No one was truly safe.

She brightened, and Mike was relieved. "He sent you a message. Should I read it to you?"

He nodded. He appreciated the offer, as his head still ached, and he wasn't looking forward to reading on his own. She must have been keeping the letter with her since it had arrived, because she pulled it from her pocket and read the few words written there promptly: "Report to me in person as soon as possible. Erwin."

"I have to go," said Mike, shifting and trying to sit up, his arms pushing on the mattress as he attempted to raise himself.

"Squad Leader!" said the medic quickly, reaching out a hand to stop him, not quite touching him but holding it in his way. "Please don't. You're in no condition to go anywhere."

"Call me Mike," said Mike. He couldn't see why anyone should call him Squad Leader when he no longer had a squad to lead. He'd lost them.

"Mike, then. Please settle down. All right?"

He nodded. He could see the sense in what she was saying. He was already sore and exhausted from the strain of what he'd done so far. "You were badly injured," she explained. "You almost died." She paused. "And I should tell you..." She hesitated. He listened. Whatever she wanted to say couldn't have been good, but it couldn't have been worse than the deaths of his squad. "You lost an eye. Your face was badly wounded, as if..." She trailed off again and didn't finish her sentence this time. He could guess what she would have said. As if something had bitten it. 

"But I have to go." He repeated these words, in spite of her good sense. He'd received an order. That was all he wanted. An order to follow, something to make sense of this, to give his miraculously saved life some meaning.

"I'm sure the commander didn't mean for you to injure yourself in order to see him. Just wait."

He let himself relax, his head falling back against the pillow. She was right. Her words were finally sinking in. He'd lost an eye. With his field of vision so limited, there was no way he could go out in the field again. It would be suicidal. He wouldn't be able to see the enemy, or the movements of his comrades. He'd have to be retired from active duty. That was the last thing he wanted. What he wanted was to keep fighting, but though he could get his strength back, there was no way to recover from the loss of an eye. "I'll wait," he said. He calmed himself. He breathed in. He could smell his companion: she smelled refreshingly honest and sharply medicinal. The room and the building itself were dusty and old, not well used until recently; the scent of new, harsh cleaner eroded but was unable to destroy the scent of age. 

He turned his head so he could view his caretaker more clearly. "Can you help me?" he asked.

Her face was grim. To be expected from a medic who worked with the Survey Corps. She'd seen far worse things than a mangled man with a missing eye. "I'll help you," she said.

Good. He wouldn't give up. Erwin needed him. He'd never left him alone before. Erwin could carry on without him. He had no doubts about that, but he shouldn't have to. He should have Mike by his side.

***

The days were long and arduous. He had been through the rigors of training and the horrors of battle, and he had been injured numerous times, but he'd never been injured like this, never struggled to make his body move as it should while his head pounded and his eye socket ached, rendering him dizzy again and again. He kept trying. The staff and his own personal medic, whose name was Jana, didn't abandon him. They worked with him. Some of their help came in the form of stopping him from struggling too hard and straining himself. They made him rest. Part of the reason for their time and attention was his rank, but he liked to think that they cared about him, too, that they acted out of goodness. He wanted to believe something positive about humanity, that people could be noble and kind, that they could accomplish what they set out to do.

He kept trying to remember what had happened to him, how he'd ended up lying by the stream bed without his horse or gear, but it made his head hurt, and the few dim impressions floating in his head were alarming sensations of movement and pain, which told him nothing but made him feel sick. He stopped pressuring himself to remember. It did no good. The memories were as likely to return on their own.

As his limbs mended, he started to walk again. They removed the bandages from his head. Looking at his face in the mirror, he saw how bad it was, the dark, thick, uneven scars snaking around the left side of his face and the back of his skull. He covered up the ugly welt that had been his left eye with a specially treated cloth that Jana gave him. It protected the wound, but it also hid the worst of the damage from sight. Like her, he had viewed many more horrifying sights, so it didn't bother him as much as it might have. "It's better not to be too handsome," he said, to cheer himself, because it was a grim, ugly sight, no matter how he told himself that he had seen worse, and no matter how fortunate and glad he was to have survived.

"It's only fair to give the other men a chance," said Jana, and he was glad she was willing to play along with his unfunny joke. They'd gotten to know each other better. He enjoyed her company. She reminded him a little of Nanaba, and although that was painful, it heartened him, too. He knew she'd want him to keep fighting.

"Mike," Jana said, once he was feeling better, "there's some news I should tell you."

He looked at her, sniffing the air, sensing a tension there. More bad news. He was used to that.

"I didn't want to tell you at first, since you were working so hard to recover, but Commander Erwin was injured on a mission. He's been hospitalized as well. They say he lost an arm."

He didn't chastise her for failing to tell him at once. He understood that she was a careful person. "I should go," he said. He still couldn't walk well, and he was weak, but he believed he could travel by carriage without risking a relapse.

He half-expected Jana to disagree with his decision on the grounds that he needed more time to recover, but she didn't protest. She didn't so much as wear a dubious expression. "You should go," she said.

"Erwin needs me."

Jana smiled. "I was never entirely sure if I believed in the commander--you hear different things about the Survey Corps, and I didn't know if what you were doing was worthwhile, but I believe it now."

"Why?"

"When I see how you fight for him, I know he must be worth fighting for."

Mike nodded. He had been fighting for him, and it was worth it. This had been a battle, too.

"I'm glad I could meet you, Squad Leader Mike."

***

The carriage ride was a test of his endurance. It felt much longer than it was, the bouncing carriage making every one of his injuries ache. He swayed in his seat with dizziness, and more than once, he had to ask the carriage to stop so he could lean out and be sick. He didn't ask for a longer stop. He had to keep going, no matter what.

A few young soldiers gathered to help him out of the carriage when it arrived at its destination after what felt like a year. He had the impression that he'd grown smaller, but he knew it was because it was more difficult for him to walk upright, especially after his long journey. The ground seemed closer, as his body was bent. At first, he didn't see any familiar faces, and he wondered how many people he knew had died. He had the odd sense that he didn't belong here, like he was an old soldier returning from long ago. People turned to stare at him. Finally, someone waved, and Mike began to pick out a few figures he recognized. When they started to converge on him, he smiled, leaning in to sniff at them. The familiar scents were heartening, reminders that both he and they were alive. "Welcome back," they said, and they reached out to touch him as if to reassure himself that he was real.

He could barely remember what had happened, but they must have thought he was dead. People didn't generally return once they disappeared. Not in their experience. Erwin must have believed that.

They'd long known that it was likely that one of them would die first. Sometimes, in the Survey Corps, you'd say you wanted to die together, in a bold gesture that involved no separation, but really, you didn't want to die at all. You didn't want anyone to die.

His comrades greeted them, but they didn't hold him long, respecting his rank and health. They knew he had a task to accomplish. Erwin had sent for him. When they'd said they'd see each other soon, they hadn't been lying this time, if it had taken a little longer for them to reunite than they'd expected. Longer was much better than not at all.

Erwin was waiting in his room. He must have heard that Mike had arrived, and Mike had sent a message ahead. Mike waved his young assistants away. He entered the room alone, shutting the door behind him. He was tired, so tired, but he was able to cross the floor on his own, to where Erwin was sitting on his bed, watching him. 

The oddness of the lack was immediately apparent and jarring. Erwin was asymmetrical, missing a large part, and Mike's brain kept telling him that he was seeing things wrong, that he must have been mistaken. It wasn't right, out of line with his usual picture of Erwin. He breathed in, and he could smell the healing wound. He could smell strong soap, too, and he knew that Erwin must have just washed and shaved. Someone must have helped him. Mike could do that now. He seated himself at Erwin's right side, where his arm was supposed to be but he belatedly realized that when he sat on Erwin's right, he was sitting in his blind spot, in the decimated part of his range of vision. He couldn't see him, but he could picture him well enough. He could smell him. He noticed that Erwin hadn't said anything yet. He hadn't either. He didn't feel the need to speak. They communicated a great deal without speaking. They knew each other so well. As they sat together, an understanding passed between them, of all the things they had lost, and all the things they yet had, the things they were holding onto and fighting for.

After a long silence, Erwin said, "When you stand where I can't reach, I'll stand where you can't see."

Mike turned his head so he could see Erwin's face. It was a tired face, showing its strain, but Mike could see the vitality in his eyes, undimmed. They seemed all the brighter in contrast with his pallor. "I'll be your eye, if you'll be my arm," Erwin said.

Mike understood. It was more than an order. It was a request.

"Good," said Erwin. "Then it's decided." Slowly, he rose to his feet. Mike watched him rise, but he didn't go far. He took a few steps, then sat down on Mike's right, where he was easier to see. Mike leaned in, and Erwin reached up, to touch his face. "Look at you," he said. "The best sight I've ever seen." He closed the remaining space between them with a kiss.

It wasn't new, and Mike had expected it, but that didn't stop his heart from rising up as he returned the kiss. He took Erwin's face in his hands, and he filled Erwin's mouth with his tongue. He was tired and he was sore, but he didn't care. He'd almost died, and so had Erwin. What if one of them had? Mike would have preferred that it be him, not because he wanted to die, but because he wouldn't have wanted to live in a world without Erwin striving to make his dream come true. Erwin was the one better able to change the world. He followed his orders. That was what he did, but sometimes--

Sometimes he wanted this, a human warmth that had nothing to do with orders. He wanted to kiss Erwin and try to forget everything else. It was dangerous, to try to be like other men, to have normal wants, but he kissed Erwin as if they were normal, fiercely at first, and then softly, a series of gentle touches of lip to lip, before he traced the shape of Erwin's mouth lightly with his tongue.

"I can't do much," Erwin confessed.

"Neither can I," Mike admitted in return. They laughed, briefly, not the most amused laughter--but they were both in such bad shape, what else could they do but laugh?

"Lie down with me," said Erwin. He rested on his left side, facing the wall, and Mike took his place behind him, pressing forward against Erwin's back. It was a risk. Someone could have walked in at any time, but the respect of the soldiers for their commander was too great, or maybe it was understood that the two of them wanted to be alone.

Erwin didn't need to ask Mike anything at first. Mike usually knew what he needed, what he wanted. He helped Erwin out of his pants. He was slow and careful with him. It pained him slightly, to lie on his left side, but the pain, though it slowed him, didn't stop him. Mike licked his own fingers, then slid them over his cock, making it wet with saliva, so he could easily slide it between Erwin's thighs. The pressure he found between Erwin's thighs held together wasn't as tight as his ass, but it was good. He took Erwin's cock in his hand and stroked him until he came. Erwin groaned, and Mike felt his come slide over his fingers, warm and wet.

"Fuck me," said Erwin.

"But Erwin--"

"I want to feel it."

"Right." Mike's hand was sticky. He pulled his hips back, sliding his cock from between Erwin's thighs, so he could swipe his fingers over his asshole. He was still being careful, as he pushed a finger inside, but Erwin was shaking slightly, and he'd apparently forgotten about his statement that he couldn't do much. 

"Now, Mike."

It was going to hurt, but he didn't need to say that, because Erwin knew. That was why he was asking for it. Mike knew that. He didn't need any words or any scent to tell him. There was something wrong, something missing in Erwin. It wasn't solely his arm; it was something both unseen and more important than that. He couldn't name it, and he probably couldn't fix it, but he would do what he could to help. Mike didn't want to hurt Erwin, but he'd do what Erwin asked. He took hold of his hip and pushed forward, after less preparation than he would have liked. Erwin was almost too tight, but they'd done this many times before, and their bodies, even altered as they were, were used to each other. His cock slid inside, and Erwin opened for him.

Erwin, who was usually so stoic and calm, let out a noise that might have been a sob, but Mike didn't look to see. He did what Erwin wanted. He wrapped his arms around him, kissed the top of his head, and fucked him. He didn't say it was all right, because it wasn't. As they fucked, there was no sound except their breathing, and another odd, strangled noise from Erwin's throat. Mike was already so hard and so eager that it didn't take him long. Not even the pain and his grief could stop him from doing this: it was what he did, as natural as breathing or scenting the air. When he came, it was suddenly, his whole body shuddering as everything seemed to spill out of him at once, all the tension rushing from him until he lay still at Erwin's back.

Slowly and gingerly, Erwin turned to face him, arranging himself carefully so as to spare the remains of his right arm. He was half naked and breathing quickly, and his cock was hard again. Mike reached out to wrap his fingers around Erwin, to satisfy him, but he noticed that Erwin was staring at his face intently, his expression sober rather than excited. Mike blinked, wordlessly asking a question.

"You're crying," said Erwin softly.

He hadn't known. He lay still as Erwin lightly touched his face, wiping away the tears leaking from his right eye. "I know," said Erwin, and Mike believed that he did. People called him cold and ruthless, and he was, but he also understood, as well as anyone, what it was like to lose people, how you had to move forward to make those losses meaningful.

"I didn't mean to," said Mike.

"You can cry as much as you want." Erwin gazed at him fondly, brushing at the tender skin just below his remaining eye. "We can stop."

Mike shook his head. He didn't have much more in him, but he wanted to make Erwin come again. He blinked away the last of his tears and rolled Erwin over onto his back. Giving him a small push down, to tell him to lie still, he moved down between Erwin's leg, curling up his legs beneath him so they wouldn't hang off the edge of the bed. 

"You don't have to," said Erwin.

"Want to."

He needed this now, to experience as much as he could of Erwin. He licked the small bead of salty liquid from the head of Erwin's hard cock, then in one swift movement, swallowed as much of it as he could. He moaned. It was good, always good, the taste and smell and feel of Erwin overwhelming him. Erwin had no resistance or restraint left, and he came in Mike's mouth within moments. Mike was waiting for this. He didn't allow a drop of it to escape him, drinking it all down. 

Erwin lay still, gazing at the ceiling, his breath slowing, and Mike curled up beside him. He was exhausted, and he was sure Erwin felt the same. Their doctors would have objected to their exploits, but their doctors weren't here right now, fortunately. It was only the two of them, and they had only each other to answer to. At times like this, Mike did what Erwin wanted, but Erwin yielded to him as well. When they were on duty, Mike followed his orders without question, but when they were alone together, as friends, they were on a more equal footing. 

"I need you to come to the capital with me," said Erwin suddenly. This didn't surprise Mike. Erwin had a habit of announcing things in bed, after they were done fucking. At one point, he'd probably thought that Mike would be more suggestible at such a vulnerable moment, but he'd surely realized, eventually, that he didn't need any special techniques to convince him. Or maybe it was that Erwin simply liked to get the distraction of fucking out of the way first, so he could focus on business. That sounded like Erwin.

"Roger," said Mike, agreeing immediately. They were wounded old soldiers of the kind usually removed from duty, but Mike knew things weren't going to be that simple. Retirement wasn't in their future.

"Good. I need my right hand."

Mike was happy to take the role. It was nothing new. He leaned in to sniff at Erwin's hair, reassuring himself of his realness and nearness.

"What do you smell?" asked Erwin, not for the first time.

"Not much," said Mike, not for the last time.


End file.
